Beneath the Surface
by Leekola
Summary: There are many things hidden beneath the surface when it comes to Rin, such as his true emotions and certain aspects of his demonic nature that have only recently come to light. When his friends start avoiding him and giving him the cold shoulder, he realizes that maybe there's more to him than even he had known. He can control his flames now, but is he in control of himself?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fanfiction. Sorry if it's horrible, but I hope it's at least worth a read. I'm planning on continuing it, though I'm not quite sure where to take it, so don't expect much. I'm not sure when exactly this is set, but I suppose it's sometime after the Seven Mysteries of True Cross Academy arc. I don't own Ao no Exorcist or any of the characters or concepts within it. Enjoy, if you can.

* * *

><p>They weren't talking to him.<p>

It had been days, almost a week now, and they still refused to acknowledge him. He hadn't directly heard anyone's voice in almost a week. Whenever he came around, they would quickly hush up in whatever they were talking about and split off to go their separate ways. He'd only caught faint dying whispers from any of them since they'd gotten back from that one dreadful mission. It was starting to really get to him.

All his life he'd lived with those whispers, those hushed voices speaking scornful, fearful words behind his back. All his life he'd been biting his tongue, trying not to let them get to him. Why couldn't they just come out and say it all to his face? Why did they all assume the worst of him before they even knew him? Why were they all so _afraid?_ But he forced himself through it. For Yukio's sake, for the old man's sake, and for his own sanity. They didn't need him picking even more fights and causing even more trouble for them, and he wasn't going to start picking fights with people who hadn't really done anything wrong. His only consolation to himself, the only thing that kept him going, really, was that he was fighting for good reasons, taking down those who were doing bad, bad things. If he started picking fights with people just for the way they acted around him, he might start to believe those whispers calling him, "monster," "beast," and, worst of all, "_demon_." No, he had to restrain himself, keep his brutish, monstrous, _demonic_ tendencies to his efforts to keep in line the scum that deserved it. He didn't know what he'd do if he started fighting with whoever made him angry, if he lost what little reassurance he had that he couldn't be a monster, a _demon_, because he was doing the right thing. He _was _doing the right thing. They just didn't know it. And he let them carry on in their harsh, hurtful ignorance, in part because a part of him believed them, no matter how many times Shiro had insisted on their falsity – _and all those reassurances, all that insistence, that was just lies, after all, wasn't it?_ – and partly because he didn't think he could stand to openly acknowledge them to tell them otherwise without blowing up from pent up anger and frustration. He'd never had friends, or anyone who cared about him in the slightest other than Yukio, the old man, and the others at the monastery. _And they all lied to you your whole life_. _Even they had their own "whispers."_

Now, though, he'd had friends for the first time ever, had others watching out for him as he watched out for them. Had people to be close to and joke around with and let his guard down around. And he'd thrown it all away. It wasn't like he'd _meant_ to, it had just…happened. He didn't even know what had happened. One minute everything was fine – sure, there was a rampaging demon loose, trying to kill them all, but they'd had it handled and were practically two steps away from exorcising it – then the battle took a turn for the worse and the next minute…

Now his friends, the people he'd learned to trust in and place his faith in that they would be there for him, had just…abandoned him. They'd abandoned him at a time when he felt he needed them most. He was just as shaken up by what had happened as they were. He didn't think they truly understood just how stressful and terrifying all this was to him. He needed their support, he needed someone to reassure him, somehow, that everything was okay, that it was all going to be just fine, and that he wasn't a monster, a _demon_.

He'd tried so hard to make up with them, to show them that he was sorry and that he was in control, that he wasn't a danger to anybody, despite the fact that he didn't fully believe it himself. He'd always known that he was a danger to those around him. He'd always been dangerous, even before his awakening. His superhuman strength, his violent attitude, his general aura of misfortune and destruction that seemed to follow in his wake everywhere he went… But that was beside the point. He was only dangerous to those around him if he couldn't control himself. He _could_ control himself, though, and no one could see that. Control was the essence of his very being, what his whole life revolved around.

Despite his efforts, his smiles, his apologies, his awkward attempts to joke around and pretend as if everything was normal, all his supposed friends had done was turn their head and ignore him. All they did was whisper behind his back, like all those throughout his life had done.

It didn't even anger him anymore. Not coming from them, who he'd thought were his friends, at least. Every time he heard them his fists would clench out of habit, and he'd feel that familiar irritation start to bubble in the back of his mind, but then it all just…fell away…when the identities of the owners of the voices sank in. His hands would fall loosely to his sides, his head would fall, his feet would drag, and he'd feel his tail droop against the skin where he had it wrapped around his waist.

He'd thought he could ignore it. He'd thought he could just take the whispers and mumbled discontents and go on with his life, patiently waiting for them to come around and see him as he was. It had been almost a week now, though, and coming from his own friends, the people he'd opened himself up to so, he just couldn't take it. He'd always hated the whispers, and now, for his own friends to betray him by treating him the same way as all those others in his life… There was a deep, fiery resentment rising up in him slowly but steadily. It was different from his previous rage, more personal and lingering, and it kind of scared him. It scared him that he could feel such a way towards his friends. He pushed it down, like he'd pushed down all his other anger towards the people who treated him so, fearing that it would cause him to act out rashly. The last thing he needed was to add to their fears and scare them even more, as well as give them even more cause to think he was out of control.

There were only two reactions he could have, though. It was either the deep, honestly slightly terrifying resentment that boiled in his bones, or complete dejection. Sometimes dejection got to be too much, sometimes he'd find himself switching back to resentment without even realizing it until his fists were clenched and he caught himself glaring at nothing in particular. He'd tried apathy, but that just didn't work. He just couldn't convince himself that he didn't care, because he _did_ care. He cared so much he thought his heart would burst every time he thought about them and their stupid, infuriating whispers. Apathy had been his (attempted) response to everyone else in the past, but he couldn't bring it into this. He cared too much.

They weren't talking to him, and he couldn't make them talk to him. They would only talk behind his back, and he couldn't do anything to change that. So he bit his tongue, he held his breath, and he forced himself to push through it. He flinched any time he heard their voices, whether it was those cursed whispers or just random conversation down the hall or the occasional shout that carried across the school grounds. He hardly saw any of them anymore. Even Shura and Yukio were hardly around at the moment, due to various official duties and missions. He knew his brother and instructor couldn't help it, but the rest were obviously trying to avoid him. It was so painful to be around them now that he started avoiding them, too. He hated being alone for so long, but he was used to it by now. He spent most of his time either outside on the roof of his dorm, or holed up in his room, staring intently at his sword as if he expected it to sprout legs and run away.

That was where he was now. He sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at Kurikara resting in front of him, lost in his depressing musings on his friends and the _whispers_. He felt numb, but now that intense, fiery anger was starting to rise up in him. How could they treat him like this? How _dare_ they treat him like this! After promising that they would be there for him, after promising him that they would always be by his side and that he could rely on them, how could they turn around and treat him like this? How _dare_ they build up his trust and reliance and then just rip it all away from him! How _dare_ they make such promises and then break them without the slightest provocation! When he made a promise, he meant it! When _he_ made a promise, he _kept_ it, dammit! He was a _demon_, for crying out loud, and he had a better sense of honor and friendship than any of them!

He didn't notice how his tail had started to twitch violently, its movements becoming steadily more exaggerated until it was continuously slapping against the blankets with a steady _thwap_, like an angry cat's. He didn't notice how his hands had clenched into fists and his nails were digging sharply into his palms. Lost in his angry, bitter thoughts, he didn't notice the way the air around him was starting to almost visibly shimmer with heat and power.

After all the work he'd put into befriending them, after all the effort he'd made to show them that he was a good guy, after all the struggles he'd pushed through to prove that he was in control and wasn't a monster, after everything he'd _done_ for them…they'd thrown it all away over something so tiny, so insignificant – !

"– Damn it!" he yelled, grabbing his still-sheathed sword and chucking it angrily at the opposite wall where it hit with a loud bang. He'd jumped to his feet in the process, and now he stood there, breathing heavily.

He'd given so much for them, _all_ of them, and for what? _What_?! Why wouldn't anyone give him a chance?! His friends, they _knew_ better! He knew they knew better! And yet, they still turned on him for something he couldn't help, couldn't control!

He let out an angry scream and brought both hands up to tear at his hair. Finally, the shimmering, slightly blue-tinted air around him burst into raging azure flames. They roared around him, mingling with his frustrated yell until he noticed them and froze, silencing himself. He brought his hands back down loosely and stared down at himself. He watched the fiery blue that so taunted him dance around him, roiling over his skin and sparking off of his fingers and tail. The flames calmed as he watched them, having lost their intensity when his anger faded in shock.

He hated it when he lost control like this and they came rushing out without him intending them to. Still, he held on to them for a moment longer, forcing them to linger so he could study them for just one more second, as if that one second could suddenly reveal to him all the answers to the questions he so agonized over. It didn't, though, and as the heat and power retreated once more within him, he was left, once more, on his own, in complete silence.

He let out a great sigh, putting his hand to his face, and dropped to his knees on the floor. What was he doing? Sitting here sulking in his room and bursting into flames randomly wasn't going to help anything. If he wanted to feel better about this, he had to _do_ something about it. If his friends were afraid, fine. He would train and work and improve on himself and prove to them that there was nothing to be afraid of. And even if his friends were never going to let him earn them back, he could at least make sure his journey with them and then their ending betrayal didn't amount to nothing. He stood, scooped Kurikara up from the floor, and started out of the dorm.

He would go out, and he would fix whatever it was that had screwed everything up like this. He would learn how to control himself better – if he could even figure out what it was he needed to control. He would go, and he would train and work until he dropped from exhaustion, and then he would train and work some more until he finally succeeded.

He wasn't a demon, no matter what his true parentage was, and he would prove that to everyone. Somehow. Even if he himself was starting to have his doubts…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this out. I had a busy week.

* * *

><p>Grass, twigs, and fallen leaves crunched beneath his feet as he made his way farther into the section of woods behind the old dorm he and his brother stayed in. A light breeze blew past, rustling the canopy of leaves above him. It was still quiet, and he was still alone, but at least it wasn't dead silent out here. The ambient noise of nature helped sooth his whirling emotions slightly, whereas the unnatural emptiness in his room had steadily wound him up tighter and tighter until he was fidgety and aching for something to break the silence. Sometimes he thought the silence was nice, a refreshing break from the near-constant action and rush that made up his life, but nowadays it didn't take long before he felt like it was going to drive him mad.<p>

Once he was outside, stamping and crunching through the constantly shifting and rustling woods and out of the stifling stillness and silence of his empty dorm room, he felt a little better. He felt a little calmer, a little tamer, and more focused on the task ahead of him.

As the dead, dry leaves crumpled noisily beneath his feet, he tried not to think about _why_ his life was so smothered with silence these days. He didn't need to think about it; he was already working on fixing it, and hopefully everything would be better within a couple of days and he'd never have to think about it again.

Pushing those unwanted thoughts out of his head, though, made other unwanted thoughts invade to take their place, as he absently wondered if how dry everything was would make it easier to burn with his flames, or if Satan's flames burned equally strong regardless of conditions. He quickly pushed that thought aside, too. He didn't feel comfortable thinking about the destructive power of his flames, wondering just how much he could burn. Even though he was absolutely _not_ legitimately considering it and it was only vague, slightly morbid curiosity, it just didn't feel right to think of such things. Such thoughts felt almost dirty, corrupting, as if even thinking them might cause them to become real. Which, who knew when it came to his powers, might even be close to the truth. If his own self-doubt and fear could cause him to be physically incapable of drawing his sword and unleashing his powers, who knew what other effects his mental state could have on them?

Hey, maybe that was a clue. A clue to what had happened that night, to what had driven his friends so thoroughly away from him. He couldn't remember feeling or thinking any differently than usual at the time, but, well…he couldn't remember much of anything from the mission. All he remembered was him and his fellow esquires fighting, cornering, and pinning down a fairly large demon. Then it had broken free, and…nothing after that.

He'd tried not to think about it too much, since in his experience lapses of memory were never a good thing. When his memory blacked out it usually meant bad, bad things for those around him, and he couldn't bear the thought of something like that happening while his friends were around. Besides, he was completely in control of his flames now! There was no way he could've blacked out due to that. So he'd dismissed his fuzzy memory as a byproduct of adrenaline or something, or maybe he'd gotten injured or knocked out. It wasn't that much of a stretch. They got knocked around all the time in battles, and he easily could have landed head-first into something hard, like a tree. He'd figured the memory loss couldn't be anything major, but now it was starting to seem like the extent of what was missing was much greater than he had originally thought. The larger the gap, the more likely, he felt, that it definitely wasn't just something that could be brushed off like he had been trying to do.

If he couldn't remember a large chunk of the mission, maybe something _had_ caused him feel or think in a way that would affect his flames…somehow…and he just couldn't remember it. He wracked his brains, but he really couldn't think of anything that could have happened that would have altered his mental state enough to influence his control over his powers. It didn't help that he didn't even have a clue what had happened that night to drive his friends away from him, whether it was a direct result of his actions, or an indirect result of his actions, or something unrelated to his actions entirely. All he knew was that his lack of memory was foreboding enough as it was, and on top of it they were all acting afraid of him. They were acting like they had when he'd lost control and been consumed by his flames. He could only guess that meant that _something_ had happened with his powers.

It was incredibly frustrating not being able to remember. It was also incredibly frustrating that his so-called friends wouldn't even talk to him enough to fill him in on what had happened.

He took a deep breath and forced down the simmering anger inside him. He had faith in his friends, he told himself. Or, he had, at least, when they had still been his friends…anyway, that was beside the point. His friends…his former friends…were good people, and they wouldn't have abandoned him without good reason. Surely they wouldn't have abandoned him without good reason. Right…?

Shaking his head to clear out the obvious thoughts that developed from that – _they don't need a good reason, you're a monster; what better reason is there?_ – he tried to think of something more constructive, before realizing that he had been wandering aimlessly through the forest without doing what he had intended to do. His tail flicked sharply in his irritation and slight embarrassment at that, and he determinedly resumed the mission he'd originally set out to complete several minutes prior.

After a few short moments, he found a place he deemed appropriately secluded and concealed from anyone who might happen to be looking in the direction of the forest while he was out here. When he came to a stop inside the small, covered clearing, though, he realized that he really had no idea what it was that he needed to work on. He knew he still had complete control of his flames, or he thought he did, at least. He held his sword up in front of himself, staring at it and thinking about what to do.

Then he lowered it again and sighed deeply in defeat. This wasn't much better than his spot in his room had been. Standing out here in the woods didn't seem to be any more helpful than sitting in his room sulking, so far. He still had no idea what to do or where to start.

An angry, frustrated growl built up in his throat, which he quickly pushed down. He didn't like being any more bestial or demonic than necessary, especially in the situation he was currently in.

He was a bit unnerved, too. He hadn't lost control to his flames since the camping trip when Amaimon had attacked them, but there was that concerning gap in his memory. He couldn't have lost control to his flames – there definitely would have been far more consequences if he had – but if that wasn't it, then what had happened?

Well, if his guess that it had something to do with his powers was correct, then he had something to go off of, he supposed.

He thought really hard about that.

…If his demonic powers were on the flux, maybe he could bring them out and see if he felt a difference?

He looked down at Kurikara in his hand, thinking. He was confident in his ability to control his flames, but he still felt some trepidation about drawing the sword without knowing what was going on. That blank spot in his memory was really troubling. If he'd gone out of control somehow on the mission, how did he know he wouldn't go out of control right now when he drew the blade?

His other hand reached for the handle, then faltered in hesitation.

Maybe…maybe it would be best to leave his powers sealed for now. He could still try to dig around the flames inside himself to see what was wrong without drawing his sword. With a sigh, he slid the sword into its red bag and hooked it over his shoulder to settle into its customary position on his back.

He continued to stand there for a moment, drawing in a couple of deep breaths to try to dissolve the tense frustration he'd been feeling all day, so he would have an easier time with this. He needed to be calm and controlled in order to pull out his flames and closely examine the sensations that accompanied them without letting them slip away or die out. After a long moment of this, he felt that his emotional state was as smooth and still as it was going to get.

Finally, he concentrated and conjured a handful of blue flames and held them there in his palm. As he watched them, monitoring them to make sure they didn't act up in any way, he also turned his attention inward, focusing on the feeling that accompanied them, resonating deep from his very being.

After focusing for a good few minutes, losing nearly his entire awareness of the world around him, he still hadn't felt anything out of the ordinary. He felt the familiar phantom pulling sensation that came when he let only a trickle of his power out, the vibrating tension that pulled his insides taught as he held back the rest of the flames, and that bone-deep, aching, instinctive desire to just let go and let them all come flooding out. But he didn't feel anything strange. It wasn't any more difficult than usual to keep the majority of his flames in check within him, and the urge to let them all out wasn't any stronger than it normally was, either. This didn't seem to be helping at all. Still, there wasn't much else he could do, and his helplessness caused his recurring frustration to begin to seep up within him again.

The longer he stood there in the small clearing, completely alone in the middle of the woods, his tail flicking back and forth in irritation behind him, the more he began to sink into despair. Examining his flames hadn't worked, and that had been his only lead. He couldn't figure out what to do, no matter how long he stood there like the idiot he was.

Finally, he decided to just practice with his flames. Maybe he would eventually notice something out of the ordinary that he couldn't sense in just a few minutes. After all, more practice would never hurt, would it? There was nothing else to try, anyway.

Besides, he was thinking too much while he was sitting around doing nothing, and if he went back to his room he'd just go back to the same thing he'd been doing before he came out here. He needed something to distract him from all the useless thoughts circling around inside his head, and since Shura was out on a mission, he couldn't go train with her. Practicing on his own with his flames was the next best thing, he supposed, and would just have to do.

Looking down, he noticed that the flames in his palm had dwindled to just a faint flicker, only slightly larger than the flame of a candle. Apparently just holding and sustaining the flame in his hand without actually doing anything with it was difficult enough that he couldn't quite maintain it when he lost some of his concentration. That meant it was difficult enough to count as training. It would be long, tedious, _boring_ training, but Yukio was always griping at him about how he needed more patience with things, so maybe he could kill two birds with one stone.

He let out a deep sigh, bracing himself for a few hours of painfully dull practice. Then he found a nice, fairly clean-looking tree, kicked some of the sticks and clumps of dirt away from the base of it, and sat down on the ground, leaning against it slightly. He re-conjured the flame in his hand and began his practice.

He practiced for hours, since it was a good distraction from his thoughts and it was better than sitting around doing nothing. It didn't once occur to him that he could be studying, and if it had, he would have dismissed it because his thoughts could drift if he was studying, but training with his flames didn't allow that.

Holding and sustaining a handful of flames for hours on end actually turned out to be a really good training exercise, from what he could tell. Since he was holding them and not just trying to set candle wicks on fire or something, it took constant, steady effort and concentration. He had to continuously monitor and adjust the flow of power to keep them going and keep them at the same size. If his mind began to wander or he became distracted by something, the flames would dwindle and fade, so it helped him improve his ability to focus. If he became too bored or impatient and became frustrated, they would flare up, and would have nearly singed his hair, if his own flames could ever do such a thing to him. This helped him improve his patience, as he'd been hoping for Yukio's sake.

Obviously, it had turned out bit more difficult than he had originally thought, once he kept at it continuously for an indefinite amount of time. However, after a long while he felt like he was getting the hang of it, and even decided to conjure up another handful in his left hand at the same time. It took twice as much effort and concentration as for one hand and he had struggled with it a bit before giving up and returning to just one hand, but by that point he was getting a little worn out, so it was to be expected. He was getting there, though. Maybe he would do this again sometime, and manage to get two hands down. Maybe after that he could try it with two differently-sized flames concurrently, although at this point he couldn't fathom the amount of concentration that would take.

His thoughts were drifting again. His flame was flaring.

He quickly tamped down on the thoughts and brought the little, but swelling, blue fire back down to its original size.

He definitely thought this training was helping him, and felt as though he was actually improving from the simple exercise. He also felt calmer and more relaxed than he had in days, since the activity had forbidden nearly any thought other than those pertaining to it.

When he finally got tired enough to quit and return to the dorm, the sun was setting, casting the entire academy in brilliant orange glow. He paid it little mind as he shuffled inside, ready to go collapse onto his bed and sleep the night away. He was exhausted, not from physical exertion, of course, but from the prolonged internal strain on his powers. Letting his flames leak out in such a tiny, controlled manner was as tiring, if not more so, as blasting them out at full strength in the midst of battle was, especially for such a long period of time. When he got to the door of his and Yukio's room he almost missed the small note taped to it. Ripping it off callously and squinting at it, he read that Shura had come back from her mission and they were scheduled for training the day after next. He felt his mood lift a little bit at that; training with Shura was exactly what he needed to distract himself from all the uncertainty and dread and hurt that was floating and prodding around inside him. He stood there a moment, humming in tired contentment, then realized himself and jerked himself out of it. He stumbled into the room, barely shutting the door behind him, and fell down onto his bed, falling fast asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

><p>The next morning, he awoke slightly sore from his practice the day before. It wasn't anything specific, just a general, indiscernible ache that was fairly easy for him to ignore. It had concerned him a bit the first couple of times he'd felt it in the past, but he had since learned that it was just the way he felt after training with his flames for a while. It was like working a muscle and the resulting soreness afterwards, though the dull aching feeling he got from straining his flames usually passed by midday or so, depending on how long he'd practiced.<p>

After using the bathroom and splashing his face with water from the sink to help wake him up, he stumbled back into the room, and then abruptly stopped. He'd forgotten to set his alarm the previous night, having simply flopped over into the bed without even changing out of his uniform, and he had classes this morning... He dashed over to the clock sitting by his bedside and snatched it up to look at the time.

_Crap! _he thought as he slammed the clock back down on its nightstand with unnecessary force. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry. He gave a cursory glance down at his now rumpled uniform before shrugging, spinning around and running out the door, grabbing Kurikara, which was still in its red bag, on the way out. He grabbed some leftovers from the fridge to serve as a quick breakfast and was out of the building in less than two minutes, hastily pulling on his shoes as he rushed down the street. Living so far out, on the outskirts of the academy grounds, meant it took him more than twice as long as everyone else to get to his classes, a fact he inwardly cursed at nearly every morning.

He managed to make it on time, though, and was even a few minutes early. He was panting and out of breath, but he'd made it. He was rushing down the last segment of hallway to his classroom when he suddenly bumped into someone, nearly sending them both sprawling on the floor. He regained his balance quickly and turned to apologize, but then he caught sight of who the person was and his eyes widened, the previously blessedly normal and distracting feel of the day melting into a puddle at his feet.

"I'm s-so sorry!" the blond girl stammered, blushing furiously, with her blue eyes glued the floor and her hands clasped in front of her. "I should have watched where I was going and – and – eek!" Her gaze finally darted upward and when she realized it was him her stammered apologies were suddenly choked out by a pathetic, quivering squeak of fear. Rin felt his insides twist painfully when he saw and heard this, but his attention was drawn quickly away from that and to the bandages covering her left arm.

"…Huh? You're hurt?" he questioned, forgetting that she was apparently terrified of him, and reached out to bring her arm closer to get a better look at it. He didn't remember anyone getting hurt on the mission, but where else could she have gotten an injury like that?

The moment his hand touched her arm, though, she flinched violently and stumbled backward, hand moving instinctively to clutch at her injured arm. Her wide, fearful blue eyes locked with his.

"I-I-I've gotta go, I'm g-gonna be late…!" she stuttered before turning and rushing off, flustered and teary-eyed. Just before she turned, he caught a glimpse of her skin at the edge of the bandages. Was that a…burn?

He stared after her in confusion and hurt, then looked down at his still slightly outstretched hand and realized his mistake. With a dejected huff, his eyebrows pulling together in frustration, he ran his hand through his hair and admonished himself for acting so casual and forgetting how terrified they all must be of him. He was a monster, the son of Satan, how could he forget that? Obviously no one else had.

The fearful look in her eyes had set off a strange spark of familiarity in his brain, but he pushed the strange feeling aside; it had probably just reminded him of their first meeting, when she'd mistaken him for a malignant demon. Instead he focused on her injury. How had she gotten hurt? How had she gotten burned? Did it have something to do with the missing, fuzzy spot in his memory?

Another student shoved past him, breaking him out of his thoughts. He suddenly remembered that he needed to get to class, and dashed the remaining few yards to his classroom. As he took his seat and waited for the boring, worthless lesson to begin, the thoughts about Shiemi's injury, as well as her hurtful reaction towards him, continued to plague him. He still didn't have clue about what had happened that night, and now he absolutely had to find out. Whatever had happened, it may have caused one of closest friends to get hurt. _He_ may have caused one of his friends to get hurt, though he had no idea how. He had to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Wow, this chapter got really long. It kind of got away from me. Hopefully that makes up for the long-ish wait.

* * *

><p>Throughout the whole day Rin was fidgety and anxious. He genuinely tried to focus on whatever random subject the teachers would be droning on about, since it would be a welcome distraction from his thoughts, but he just couldn't make the stuff hold his attention for very long. He was distracted and worried the whole day, anxiously waiting for cram school to start, though he didn't really know what he was going to do. He just knew that he needed to do <em>something<em>, and that something would probably have to involve approaching his…former…friends and demanding answers from them. He was not looking forward to that at all. Just the thought of it was sending his heart into a rapid thrumming, pounding beat. He dreaded having to face them, to look them in the eyes and see the contempt they held for him there where once there was warm acceptance. See the fear where there was once security and protection. See the hatred and animosity where there was once friendship and trust.

He held back a nervous groan as he fidgeted with a pen at his suddenly very confining desk, forcing his tail to stop its agitated twitching under his shirt. He still had a few minutes to go before the last of his ordinary classes let out and he would go to cram school and have to put up with their cold, harsh gazes once again, boring into his back. He knew he was imagining at least part of it – after all, what interest would they have in him anymore? But he knew they glared at him, just for daring to exist in the same room as them. As if he had a choice about being there.

Finally, class let out. Despite his anxious, nervous energy, he didn't bother getting up just yet. Instead, he sat there, putting his things back into his bag as slowly as possible so as to drag out the process. He was dreading having to go back to that classroom with their cold, spiteful gazes, especially since he was now planning on walking right up into those angry looks and initiating a confrontation he knew he wouldn't get out of without getting yelled at and called a monster to his face.

It wasn't until the majority of the other students had filed out of the room and he was sure he was about to get hassled for loitering around that he sighed deeply and made his way out of the classroom. He fingered the magic key in his pocket as he walked toward the edge of the academy grounds, looking for an empty area separate enough from the after-school crowd to be able to use it without being seen. He thought and wondered about what exactly he was going to do, going to say. His nerves and tension were eating him up, though, and preventing him from being able to really think about it. By the time he found himself turned down some random alley, completely alone, and inserted the key into the lock of a plain metal door, he hadn't managed to come up with anything.

The enormous, multi-colored hallway was empty when he entered. All his stalling must have made him a little late. Oh well. It wasn't like he'd be able to pay attention to anything his teachers would be saying here, either.

With his head hanging low, the fringe of his hair shading his eyes from the view of anyone around him, he trudged into the classroom and settled in at the first empty desk he could find. The teacher paused in his lecturing to make some sort of comment about his lateness that he didn't bother to make sense of. He only gave a noncommittal grunt and peered up through his dark hair, waiting for the lesson to resume so he could go back to his thoughts.

It didn't take long for the teacher to lose interest in him and return to his lesson. Rin did his best to ignore the nagging feeling that the eyes of all the students behind him were staring at him, boring angry holes into his back. Surely he was just imagining it, since they should have no interest him when they had more important things to focus on, like whatever the teacher was going on about. He didn't dare glance over his shoulder to confirm or disprove his thoughts, though.

He pulled out his textbook and a notebook and tried to look as though he was paying attention to what the teacher was saying, if only to keep from drawing even more unwanted attention to himself. He definitely wasn't listening to the lesson, though. His thoughts were on something much different. They were busy focusing on trying to figure out what could have happened to give Shiemi such an injury, trying to see if he could remember anything having to do with it, and trying to figure out how to approach her. The last thing he wanted to do was force the girl to stand his presence any more than she had to, but the longer the lesson went on, the more apparent it became to him, as he was putting in last minute efforts to work it out, that he was going to have to ask her what had happened.

He remained in this state, tense and nervous, trying desperately not to turn and look at his classmates to somehow gauge how they might react when he approached them about this issue of Shiemi's injury, for the entire remainder of their classes in the cram school. He would occasionally sneak a sideways glance over to where Shiemi was sitting, eyeing her arm as if staring at it long enough would suddenly reveal to him all the answers he needed so desperately. He made sure to be subtle about it, though, and not hold his gaze too long. He didn't want to somehow raise the ire of anyone else who might have noticed him looking at her.

By the time they were in their very last class of the day, Rin was so tense and wound up with nervous anticipation that he felt as though he might erupt in an explosion of fidgeting and foot-tapping at any moment. It didn't help that he was becoming more and more frantic and disturbed the longer he went without knowing what had happened during the gap in his memory. He might have done something that had caused one of his few friends to get hurt, and didn't even know it.

His fists were clenched tightly against the edge of his desk as he sat there, a few minutes away from the dreaded confrontation that he had tried and failed to prepare himself for. He tried to tell himself it was stupid to be getting this worked up over something as simple as asking Shiemi what had happened, but every time he thought about it and pictured the frightened look in her eyes, his anxiety hit him anew. They weren't supposed to be afraid of him, none of them were. He wasn't a monster, he _wasn't_. But for some reason the innocent girl who had become his first friend was afraid of him, terrified of him, and he couldn't stand the thought of inciting such fear in her eyes again.

He was so caught up in his thoughts and dread that he didn't notice when the teacher dismissed the class, nor did he notice the other students giving him odd and wary looks for his overly tense posture. He was only brought out of his oblivious state when the very girl he was so agonizing over passed by in front of him. He jerked out of it, realizing that she was about to walk out the door and he was going to lose his chance to talk to her. He jumped to his feet with excessive haste, sending his chair skidding loudly behind him. The small blond girl jumped slightly at the noise, then jumped again when he hurried around the desk and approached her quickly.

"Ah – Shiemi!" he called out urgently. His previous anxiety and tension were momentarily forgotten as he sprang into action to not let this chance to find out what had happened slip through his fingers.

Shiemi turned to face him with wide, startled eyes. He tried to ignore the blatant fear quivering within them.

"Uh," he stammered, voice faltering a bit, "I was just…wondering…"

He noticed she was backing away from him, edging farther towards the door.

_Crap, no!_ he thought. _I can't let her go without getting answers._

"Shiemi, wait!" he cried, taking a small step forward. She paused, but still looked like she was about to bolt out the door at any moment. "Shiemi, you've got to tell me, how did you get hurt? How did you get that injury on your arm?" Rin demanded hastily.

The frightened girl just stared up at him, tears starting to well up and glisten in her wide blue eyes.

"What kind of a question is that?" Izumo snapped from somewhere behind him. He jumped a bit, having forgotten about the others in the room, then winced at his classmate's harsh tone. Glancing in the direction of her voice, he saw that the others were glaring at him menacingly and protectively.

"Are you trying to rub it in our face or something? You've got some nerve, bringing that up! Like you of all people have the right to ask that!" Bon snarled.

Rin could tell that he was moments away from coming to blows over this. One wrong move and he would find himself fighting his own supposed friends. He had to get this over with quickly so he could get out of there. His eyes fell on Shiemi again, who was turning to rush out the door.

_No, no, no!_ he thought desperately.

He lunged forward, grabbing the blond girl's shoulders to keep her facing him and maybe look him in the eye.

"Shiemi, please, you've got to – " he started to plead, but was violently interrupted when her eyes snapped up to his, wide and quivering with fear, and she cringed at his touch and wrenched away from him, stumbling backwards. She let out a cry of terror, hands coming up instinctively to protect herself from the demon in front of her.

For a split second, there was silence as Rin stared at her in shock. He felt something almost like a very intense wave of déjà vu. Then his eyes widened and the world went fuzzy. A sharp pain pulsed through his head without warning, and he groaned, stumbling sideways into something hard and wooden that clattered as he ran into it.

Images began to flash before his eyes, overlaying and blocking out his vision of the real world and the frightened, terrified girl in front of him. The images were foggy and flitted by too quickly for him to register anything other than a striking familiarity as well as their similarity to what he'd just seen. Phantom sensations tickled his senses and ran up and down his skin. His ears were filled with a roaring sound that drowned out anything anyone could have been saying around him.

Suddenly, he remembered. He remembered..._rushing forward with his flames raging around him…a familiar blond head of hair and wide, blue eyes appearing in front of him…screams in the distance, so familiar, but his focus on something else entirely…_

The images and sensations slowly faded after a long moment, slipping through his mental fingers as he clumsily tried to hold onto them through his disoriented haze, tried to remember something more, or at least string together some kind of meaning from the flashes he'd just seen.

When at last the foggy images and echoes faded from his senses and he was returned to the real world, he found himself leaning heavily on the desk beside him, eyes clenched shut against the pain and a strong, overwhelming vertigo. His hand was to his head, cradling the still-present, though steadily fading, ache that had sprung up in coalescence with the…memories? What had that been, anyway? He hadn't ever experienced anything like it.

He shook his head violently, clearing away the last of the flickering traces of scenes that were not actually happening. He tried to step away from the desk beside him, since he didn't seem to need it for support anymore. He stumbled a bit when he let go of the table, though, almost dropping to his knees weakly as his vision swam and the world rolled beneath his feet. Another vision passed through his head, again blocking out the world from his senses –

_The bright blue flames around him suddenly died out, leaving him weak with fatigue and disorientation. He stumbled as he stepped forward, almost dropping to his knees…_

His hand shot out automatically and he again grasped the desk next to him, gasping and shaking his head wildly to try to dispel the confusing flashes and the pain that was pounding in his skull. He stood like that for a moment, keeping completely still as he waited for the intensity of it all to fade. When the throbbing and vertigo finally seemed manageable, he opened his eyes again.

Looking around, he saw that he was completely alone in the deserted classroom. Everyone else must have left while he was having his little…episode. He hadn't gotten the chance to actually find out what had happened to give Shiemi her injury.

However, that didn't seem to matter anymore. Those flashes of images, they were memories from that night, he was sure of it. He wasn't sure why he'd remembered something so suddenly and seemingly randomly, or why it had felt so painful and dizzying, but he was remembering. That meant he still had a chance to figure this out and work it out on his own, without having to go and bother the others with his presence. He could also avoid the potential fight that he was apparently going to have to get into if he tried to approach them about it again.

Ignoring the bitterness he felt at that thought, he focused a bit on all the flashes he'd just seen, trying to see if he could remember anything more of them. When he did, though, the pain in his head sharpened and began to pound harder against his temple. He quickly gave up on that, since he wasn't getting anywhere just thinking about it, anyway. Whatever it had been that caused his sudden, though minor, remembrance, he didn't think he was going to make any more progress standing around in an empty classroom. He needed to at least get back to his dorm room to try to figure out what had happened and possibly get it to happen again. Though he cringed at the thought of intentionally inducing that painful, nauseatingly disorienting experience again, he knew he had to if he wanted to find out what had happened that night. He still needed to figure out what exactly had caused it, though…maybe he'd come up with something on the way back to his dorm.

He gathered up his things and dashed out of the room and cram school altogether, desperate hope making him anxious and impatient to get back to his dorm. Now he had something to possibly build off of in his quest to fix whatever it was that had driven his friends from him. Rin ran back to the dorm as fast as he could, feet pounding against the pavement and thoughts racing a mile a minute.

_He was dashing through the forest, flames blazing. He ran like the wind, but still just wasn't quite fast enough…with a snarl, he forced himself to run even faster…_

With a pained grunt, Rin put his hand to his head and shook his head, trying to clear it of the sudden dizzying and disorienting flash of images and sensations that shot through his mind once more. That was a memory of that night, he was sure, just like the earlier flashes had been.

Something was triggering them, causing them to rush forward in an intense, painful whirlwind that was still fuzzy and indistinct, but was better than nothing. As the dorm building came into sight in the distance up ahead of him, he dodged around a lamppost at the last second and tried to figure out what was causing these bursts of memory. He focused on the most recent shred, the one that had ripped through his mind while he was running, causing him to almost trip over some random ornamental pot. It wasn't much. All he remembered from it was running.

Well, he was running now. Was that the connection? When he saw something similar to something that had happened that night, his memory was jogged? He'd seen Shiemi's fear-filled face, heard her scared shriek as he moved toward her, and then remembered something about a battle, he thought. That made sense. It fit with the flash he'd gotten when he'd stumbled away from the desk, as well. Alright, he had a clue! Now he could take the first real step to figuring out what had happened and mending his lost relationship with his friends.

He ignored the intense feeling of hopelessness, the doubtful, anguishing thought that maybe it was too late to actually be able to do anything about it.

When he finally made it back to his dorm room, he had come up with a few ideas for how to try to trigger more flashes of memory. Since they were apparently being caused by circumstances that were similar to those of the night of the mission, he just had to figure out, judging by what little he could remember of the mission, what would help remind him.

He knew it had happened at night, in a forest, so he thought he should probably go back out into the woods behind the dorm again that night after the sun had set. He also knew what type of demon they'd faced that night, so he figured he could dig through one of his exorcist textbooks to find a picture of it. He also needed a flashlight so he could find the page once he was out there without accidentally burning the book up, like he was sure he might do if he tried to use his flames as a light source. It was easy for him to not burn people he didn't want to, but sometimes objects were more difficult. Especially an object that he became frequently irritated with, such as a textbook.

The textbook was easy enough to find, but he discovered that the flashlight had decided to bury itself…somewhere in the slightly cluttered room. He began searching through the room for it, checking under the beds, under the desk, _in_ his bed, though he wasn't sure why it would be there…

He was so focused on trying to find the thing that he didn't notice the cat-like demon that walked into the room behind him until a familiar echoing ethereal voice sounded in his head.

_-What are you doing, Rin?-_

"Oh, hi, Kuro. Sorry, I think I'm going to be out for a while. I think it would be best if you stayed here." Rin said distractedly as he looked around the room for the flashlight. Kuro hadn't been with him on the mission, so he figured it wouldn't do to have him around if he was trying to replicate it. He didn't pay the cat sith any mind as it made itself home on his bed and curiously watched him search the room.

After a few more minutes of searching through every nook and cranny, he finally found the flashlight wedged behind a stack of books and papers on his desk. How it had gotten there, he didn't really know, or care. He picked it up as well as the textbook and made his way back downstairs.

He cooked himself a quick meal to eat for dinner as he waited for the sun to set outside, and sat around patiently watching the pink and orange bleed into and then leak out of the sky through the window. Now that he had a clear objective and course of action in mind, he found it much easier to be calm and patient. He just had to think about what he was doing and how, and not let himself think about _why_ he had to do it.

When at last the conglomeration of bright, fiery colors outside had mostly faded to be replaced by a dull, inky blue-back, he gathered his items and left the building. After a few minutes of trekking through the dark woods he decided to get started. He paused in his walking, holding the flashlight in his mouth to keep it trained on the pages as he flipped through the textbook. He found the picture without much difficulty, and pulled the flashlight out of his mouth as he held the book up at arm's length in front of him. He stood like that for a moment, waiting.

Not feeling any sign of one of the flashbacks, he pulled the book in a bit closer, squinting slightly and focusing hard on the picture of the demon they'd fought that night. He thought he felt…something stirring in the back of his mind, but it certainly wasn't strong enough. Testing it out a bit, he shifted his posture slightly until he was in a battle stance, his flashlight gripped in his hand like a weapon as he continued to point it at the book.

He felt ridiculous and was very glad no one was around to watch him, but it seemed to be working. A headache began to blossom behind his eyes, though not as strong as the one he'd had upon seeing Shiemi's frightened face earlier had been. His vision flickered between the book he was holding and something else for a moment, and he got the impression of _standing there, waiting for the demon to make a move. It turned and started to…_

It faded as quickly as it had come, and he frowned slightly in disappointment at the lack of information. Maybe if he moved around a bit? He was sure he'd feel even more stupid and ridiculous running around the dark forest with a textbook held up in front of him, but he wasn't sure what else to do.

Sighing and shaking his head at the stupidity of what he was about to do, he plotted a straight path between the trees so he wouldn't run into anything – hopefully – and set off. Sprinting through the dark woods, holding the picture of the demon in front of him, he soon felt his head throb in an intense spike of pain. He just barely stumbled to a stop before his senses were swallowed by those from the past.

_He was running through the forest, dodging the trees and moving towards the demon. He cut in front of it and bashed it away with his sheathed sword, forcing it to change its course and run in a different direction…_

He came out of it curled up on the forest floor with both hands to his head to fight against the pain. He sat there until the dizziness faded, then looked around and picked up his textbook and flashlight from where he'd dropped them.

Once again, he couldn't tell much from just that snippet of memory. He was a bit worried that any memories he managed to scrounge up in this process would be similar, but he had to try anyway. Besides, maybe if he gathered enough of them, he could piece them together into something meaningful.

He sighed again as he realized that he was probably going to have to mimic an entire battle with a stupid textbook. Then he jumped to it once more.

He continued these attempts for a couple of hours before finally giving up and just sitting and staring at the stupid book that almost seemed to be taunting him at his point. His tail thrashed angrily behind him as he glared at it, frustrated and waiting for some kind of epiphany to strike him. His frustration mounted higher and higher the longer the night went on.

He'd been sitting there in the dark clearing, staring at the picture in the textbook for what seemed like a long, frustrating while, when he sensed a presence nearby. A small flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, that was all, but he quickly whipped his flashlight around anyway. The yellowish beam of light illuminated a small demon that he didn't recognize lurking among the trees just beyond his little clearing. It stared at him with grotesque, unblinking eyes. He felt his irritation rise sharply at the sight of it. He'd been trying to jog his memory for what seemed like hours now. He'd devised all kinds of unorthodox and frankly ridiculous exorcises to try to unlock his memory that would have been humiliating if he wasn't completely alone. He was tired, and frustrated, and his hope and patience were draining out of him rapidly. He hadn't made much of any progress, and some random small-fry demon wasn't going to make things any easier.

He locked gazes with it and growled, low and threatening.

It didn't get the hint. It continued to stand there and stare at him, even shifted a little bit closer.

Rin snapped.

He jumped to his feet, dumping the textbook uncaringly to the ground, and pulled Kurikara out of its red casing. Suddenly, he felt fiercely glad for this outlet for his frustrations. He didn't know what this demon's problem was, but it was going to regret not leaving when it had the chance.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he growled, unsheathing his sword and watching as the clearing lit up blue in the light of the flames that now wreathed him. Finally, he saw a hint of fear in the hideous thing's eyes, but it still wasn't enough. He felt a familiar thrill shoot through him, a wild, untamed, feral desire, a feeling he often got when he was fighting. It egged him on, encouraged him, made him want even more than he had before to bury his sword in this thing and make it _burn_. This thing had interrupted him, disrespected him, dared to enter his presence and challenge him, and it was going to pay.

He leaped forward, ignorant of the sharp pain that was beginning to form in his head, raised his sword –

_I'm going to rip this thing to shreds!_

– and froze, all thoughts of violence and fighting screeching to a halt inside his head as a flood of images and sensations washed over his brain. This was more than he'd been experiencing earlier, far more. There wasn't nearly as much pain, but he found himself abruptly scooped right up out of the dark woods around him and tossed back in time to that night as it replayed in his memories.

_After a long period of running and planning and then running some more, along with some clever thinking by Bon and Konekomaru, they'd finally gotten the large demon pinned down in a corner and were ready to exorcise it. Rin was standing back, watching absently as the others began chanting through what they thought was the demon's fatal verse. He held his still-sheathed sword at his side, having not needed to draw it in order to play his part to get the demon backed into the corner. He'd had to do a lot of running and chasing, but there had been no need for his flames. So far things seemed to be going according to plan, nothing out of the ordinary._

_ He felt a little odd, though. A little more pumped than usual, a little more exhilarated than normal. He was almost…twitchy. His senses seemed heightened, every little sound or movement catching his immediate attention. All the scents around him were strong and crisp, easily identifiable if he'd known what to identify them as. He adjusted his grip on Kurikara's hilt, twisting it restlessly in his hand. He felt ready, more than ready, _eager_, for action, for movement, for a fight._

_ He wasn't sure why he was feeling so antsy, but figured it wasn't important. With a mental shrug, he dismissed it as a random mood._

_ Suddenly, the demon let out a great roar, rearing up and sending the exorcists-in-training around it sprawling to the ground. It took advantage of their brief moment of forced inaction to take off, sprinting into the woods._

_ "Crap!" Bon yelled from where he had been knocked to the ground. "Someone go after it!"_

_ "On it!" Rin shouted with a fierce look, a wild grin splitting his face as he tore after the demon without hesitation. _Finally, _he was moving, doing something. He chased the demon, hot on its heels, relishing the feeling of having it flee from him. He drew his sword, feeling his flames erupt into existence around him. His lips pulled back from his elongated teeth as he snarled, pushing himself even faster. He was running as fast as he could, but the demon continued to remain just out of his reach._

_ As frustrating as it was not being able to actually attack the demon just yet, the thrill of the chase was still plenty exhilarating. In fact, the longer the chase went on, the more caught up he got in the rush of it and the more elated he became, his grin turning feral and predatory. It became more than just a chase, this was a _hunt_, and the demon was his prey._

_ Suddenly, up ahead of him the other exorcists-in-training rushed out in front of it. For a split second he thought this odd, then realized that he and the demon must have gotten turned around during the chase and headed back closer to their starting point._

_ Then the demon was forced to skid to a stop and he dismissed the others altogether. _

I'm going to rip this thing to shreds! _He thought gleefully, almost snarling in excited anticipation before brandishing his sword and launching himself at the demon, his mind hissing an enthusiastic, "Yes!" as he at last felt his blade slice into its flesh._

_ He landed hard on the other side of it, but he kept his eyes focused on his target, and quickly went after it again. He was enjoying this even more than the chase. Was this glorious, wonderful feeling what Amaimon had been seeking when he had obsessed over trying to get Rin to fight him, to "play" with him?_

_ The demon spun around wildly and swatted him away with a massive paw as he recklessly charged at it. He was thrown back violently and just barely managed to avoid flying straight into a tree. Still, he grinned, though, as he wiped a dribble of blood from his mouth. After all, what fun was a fight without a challenge?_

_ The demon lunged for something, and Rin saw an opening. He rushed forward while the thing was off-balance and distracted, ready to bury his sword in its vulnerable back. He disregarded the human girl with familiar blond hair and wide, startled blue eyes that appeared in front of him, between him and his prey. She was unimportant. He shoved past her and leapt at the demon, burying his sword nearly to the hilt in it. His wild, fierce grin widened even more at the solid hit. The demon let out a pained roar and tried to spin around to face him. Before it could, though, he ripped his sword free, making sure to leave behind a good batch of blue fire to char its skin, and darted off to the side to dodge its angry retaliatory swipe, cackling madly at its incompetence._

_ After a short moment he became aware that the beast's screams weren't the only ones ringing through the air. There was a high-pitched cry behind him somewhere, with a familiar ring to it that made him frown slightly, as well as yelling for holy water, but those were the humans, he wasn't concerned with them at the moment._

_ Ignoring the panicked sounds in the distance, he continued to grin fiercely and danced around his prey's pathetic attempts to fight back against him. He sliced at one of its arms as it tried to claw at him, then went in for another hit when it fell back, reeling. This blow wasn't as clean, but he still landed it and felt that incredibly satisfying rending of flesh as his sword tore through its skin._

_ He landed with a skid, and spun around to face his prey once more. The demon gave a huge cringe and cried out in pain, seemingly for no reason. That was when Rin finally became aware of the chanting coming from the other humans. They were reciting its fatal verse. Soon, his plaything would be gone._

_ That was okay, though, he'd had his fun. Before it disappeared completely, however, he jumped up and buried his sword in it one last time, twisting the blade and savoring the feeling one last moment before it gave out a dying screech and disappeared._

_ He stood there, panting slightly, grin still stretched across his face, not noticing how the others were staring at him. He felt amazing, exhilarated, powerful._

_ After a moment, the roaring of the rush of battle slowly faded from his ears, and he began to hear the others talking and saying things._

_ "What the hell?! I thought they wouldn't burn us!"_

_ "Guys, I think something's not right here…"_

_ "Oh really? What gave you that idea?"_

_ "Look at him, just standing there with that look on his face. He looks crazy…" _

_ He didn't pay the words any mind though. They didn't matter, not as much as holding on to this glorious, empowering, victorious feeling. He stood like that for a long moment, savoring it before the adrenaline from the hunt faded and he was forced back into his normal, much duller and less satisfying state of mind._

_ One of the humans moved in front of him, saying something, and his hand tightened automatically on the grip of his sword._

_ "Okumura! Hey, Okumura!" the human shouted. He felt his attention spike upon hearing that word, for some reason, his focus narrowing in on the human that had said it._

_ "The battle's over. You can sheathe your sword now."_

_ Despite the fact that those words held almost no meaning to him at that moment, he moved automatically upon hearing them. He looked down, watching distantly as his hands sheathed his sword and slid it back into the red case on his back._

_ Suddenly, all the intense waves of adrenaline and exhilaration and tension for battle died out, replaced with a numb emptiness. The flames around him faded, and without the excitement pumping through his veins keeping him up, he stumbled slightly, almost falling to his knees before he adjusted to the sudden fog that seemed to envelope his senses and dampen his movement._

_ He followed the partially yellow-haired human to where the other humans were gathered, then stood there blankly as they murmured amongst themselves. When they stood and began walking in one direction together, he followed them without a word. He felt like he was walking through a dream. He followed them in a haze until they split and were gone and he was on his own, at which time he just kept walking, letting his feet take him where he needed to go._

_ Before he knew it, he was lying in his bed, falling asleep. His dreams were of wild chases and vicious battles drenched in blood and wreathed in blue flames._

Finally, Rin surfaced from the bombardment of past experiences with a great gasp, breathing heavily as he tried to reconcile what he'd just seen with where he was now.

Realizing he was lying face-down on the ground, with leaves, twigs, and dirt digging into the side of his face, he groaned and pushed himself up from the forest floor. Incredibly disoriented, he held a hand to his head and looked around. A long, bright blue object beside him caught his attention, and he realized it was his sword, lying unsheathed on the ground.

This made him remember the demon he'd been about to attack, and with a jolt he looked up to try to find it. It was nowhere to be seen. He felt a little less confused and disoriented now, as he thought about the things he'd just seen and they began to really sink in.

His heartbeat sped up quickly as he remembered with sudden clarity tearing after the demon with gleeful abandon, taking much greater joy than he should have whenever he'd felt his blade digging into its flesh, the frenzied, bloodthirsty state he'd been in…and _Shiemi_. Oh, Shiemi. It was a little difficult to piece together from just what he remembered, since he'd been focused on one thing and one thing only, but he was fairly certain he had his answer now.

He'd burned her. With his own blue flames that he'd thought were completely under control, he'd burned her badly enough that her arm was still covered in bandages a week after the incident.

No, that wasn't right. He hadn't lost control of his flames. He just hadn't _cared_ enough to protect her from them. All he'd cared about was hunting and hurting his "prey." She'd gotten in his way and he'd just let her burn for it.

No wonder she was so afraid of him.

No wonder everyone hated him.

He suddenly felt more unsure and afraid of himself than he had since the first couple of weeks after he'd found out about his true nature. Or when he'd lost control of himself to his flames.

What else was there? What else did he not know about himself that would put those around him in danger?

His flames flared up around him, reaching out and licking at the bark of the nearby trees. He focused and tried to pull them in…but it didn't do anything. They continued to burn and spread beyond the clearing he was positioned in. With a feeling of sudden dread like a block of ice dropped into his stomach, he hastily grabbed his lit sword and sheathed it, looking around shakily as the flames died out.

He was breathing rapidly now, and there were tears trying to escape from the corners of his eyes. He'd hurt one of the only people who had dared to get close to him and be his friend. He was crazy. He was out of control. When would he ever stop putting those around him in danger? When would he ever stop being such a beast, such a monster, such a _demon_?

He choked down a sob and roughly rubbed the tears from his eyes.

No, he needed to do something other than sit here crying over himself. He was sitting in the middle of the woods, who knew how late at night at this point. He needed to get back to the dorm. He could think about everything he'd just discovered later.

With that goal in mind, he set about the quick task of gathering the things he'd brought out with him. The pages of his textbook were crumpled and smudged with dirt from when he'd let it fall to the ground. He relied on the flashlight to guide himself back to the dorm building. It didn't take long to make it all the way back, and once he was inside he flopped down on his bed, not caring about his shoes or the dirt and leaves that clung to him.

Despite his efforts, tears still leaked out of his eyes as he lay there in the dark, staring brokenly out into the darkness that had swallowed the room.


End file.
